


Play By Art

by Elendraug



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Homestuck Shipping Olympics 2012, Illustrated, Interactive Fiction, M/M, Music, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk: Find a dance partner of your own.</p>
<p>(alternatively: the Play By Heart SUPERCARTRIDGE EXPANSION PACK: Dirkuu Special Edition!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play By Art

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Play By Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/152155) by HSO Team Dirk♥Jake. 



> Happy predomination day, Caliborn. <3
> 
> I STRONGly recommend playing _[Play By Heart](http://hso2012-collabs3.dreamwidth.org/1087.html)_ and seeing all three endings before reading this fic, as it was written to fit within that narrative and tie back into it in various ways.
> 
> Thank you so much to the members of the original game team who got back to me and gave me permission to post this. I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Illustrated by [Maim](http://freakyhumanshit.tumblr.com).
> 
> Please note that this fic contains sexual content, discussions of death, and threats of violence. Detailing the exact specifics seems like it'd ruin the experience of the "playthrough."

_> Find a dance partner of your own._

_You don’t see the point in waiting around for Jake to return so you head towards the dancefloor yourself, intending to find some nice carapace to dance with. What you end up getting is an angry grinning green face shoved all up in your personal space._

_Caliborn: WHERE THE HELL DO YOu THINK YOu’RE GOING?_  
_Dirk: Dancing. Should I have asked your permission first?_  
_Dirk: I guess I should have assumed you wanted to play a game before I was allowed to partake in the festivities._  
_Caliborn: WE’RE ALREADY IN A GAME WITH ONE ANOTHER._  
_Dirk: That’s news to me._  
_Caliborn: CONSIDER THAT A TWIST THEN, SINCE YOu SHOuLD’VE FIGuRED THAT OuT EASILY. AND TIME FOR SHITTY TWIST TWO..._  
_Caliborn: YOu’RE DANCING WITH ME NOW. A SWEET. TENDER. DANCE._  
_Caliborn: HAA HAA HAA HAA HAA!_  
_Dirk: Fine._

_You don’t actually mind dancing with this douche but you do mind that it is making you lose track of Jake. Caliborn immediately goes into this awkwardly aggressive shy mode like dancing with you is something incredibly obscene and it’s totally turning him on._

After a few minutes of music, Caliborn brings his face close to yours, next to your cheek. Is he smelling you? You're pretty sure he's smelling you.

> Pull away.  
> Kiss him.  
> Grab his hand.

* * *

> Pull away.

This wasn't the direction you wanted these ironic shenanigans to go, and it's making you uncomfortable. You pull away, frowning.

Dirk: Sorry, I'm not... It's not like that between us.

He looks startled, then confused, then angry. Oh boy.

Caliborn: ...  
Caliborn: FINE. I'LL JuST FuCK RIGHT OFF THEN.

He steps away from you, and you can't read his expression. Humans, trolls, and cherubs are emotionally versatile sentient beings that can feel many hells of different things, often simultaneously! You almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

Jake examines the scene, concerned.

Jake: What was all that about? Whatd i miss?  
Dirk: Nothing.  
Jake: It didnt LOOK like nothing but i guess ill have to take your word for it.

_Jake wastes no time in pulling you off the dance floor, away from his fuming cousin. He leads you upstairs to a balcony._

_Jake: Some date you are strider! A real peach. Scampering off as soon as i turn my back. What do you have to say for yourself hm?_

_> ”What was I supposed to do?”_  
_> ”I missed you.”_  
_> ”Nothing.”_

_^ MAIN GAME_

* * *

> Kiss him.

You've been dancing with him a while now. He's comfortably in your personal space, and the moment seems right. You turn your head to catch his lips with yours, and he jolts for a split second before putting his arms over your shoulders and kissing you back. He's got that whole "I'm a skeleton snake monster" thing going on, so the kiss is different than what you’ve known in the past, but you don't mind. It's nice. 

It's actually kinda hot. 

You stop dancing entirely and keep your arms securely around his waist. He kisses you fervently, occasionally biting at your lower lip. This is definitely hot. He's not the only one who's totally turned on by how  RIDICuLOuSLY TENDER this is.

He's got his tongue in your mouth by the time you notice that someone is clearing their throat next to you.

Oh. Oh crap.

Jake glares at you, arms crossed over his chest, obviously irritated.

Jake: Ahem. Mind if i cut in cousin dear??  
Dirk: Uh.

You blew it.

Caliborn still has his arms looped over your shoulders. He grins, which in this case seems like maybe he's also baring his teeth.

Caliborn: YOu MAD, BRO?  
Jake: I am as a matter of fact! A word, strider?  
Dirk: Yeah, give me a second.

This won't be pleasant. You were supposed to keep your attention on Jake, but this went way off track. And in front of everybody at the gala! Who put you in charge of stealth missions, anyway?

Then again, to get where you are now, you _did_ kick down Jake’s bedroom door, _and_ you shoved a bunch of glitter-dusted raw meat into your mouth, so maybe it’s par for the course at this point.

Fuming, Jake wastes no time in pulling you off the dance floor, away from his smug cousin. He leads you upstairs to a balcony.

_Jake: Some date you are strider! A real peach. Scampering off as soon as i turn my back. What do you have to say for yourself hm?_

_> ”What was I supposed to do?”_  
_> ”I missed you.”_  
_> ”Nothing.”_

_^ MAIN GAME_

* * *

> Grab his hand.

You’re enjoying being up close and personal with him, even more so now that he’s somewhat dropped the tsundere schtick. He seems hesitant to get completely into your space, though, and won’t close the distance between you. There have been several occasions when he’s stepped on your feet, too, but you think it’s intentional rather than a lack of skill or coordination.

You glance around at the crowd. The gala is in full swing, with dozens of Carapacians dancing along to the music. The room is packed. Jake and his dance partner are nowhere to be seen. Neither is Calliope, for the moment.

Your hands are tightly clasped as you dance. You lower your arm, and he lowers his with your movement. You rub the pad of your thumb across the back of his knuckles.

Dirk: You wanna get out of here?  
Caliborn: HuH?  
Dirk: Y’know. Find somewhere quiet.  
Caliborn: I GuESS. IT’S FuCKING LOuD OuT HERE.  
Dirk: Yeah. And not exactly private.

He’s flustered, once he realizes what you’re implying, but soon nods his approval and laces his fingers with yours. You both make your way through the gathered guests, and ascend the staircase to the second floor. Caliborn leads you down a series of hallways, far away from prying eyes, until you reach a door that you can only assume is to his bedroom.

Caliborn: SO. HERE WE ARE.  
Dirk: Yep.

The aggression and blustering from before seems replaced by nervousness. Caliborn fidgets before finally turning the doorknob and waiting for you to step into his room.

Dirk: What a gentleman.  
Caliborn: I’M AN EXCELLENT HOST.

The instant you’re both through the door, you close it softly and turn the lock. No sense in risking discovery.

His room is cluttered with stacks of paper and a variety of art supplies, including a full spectrum of paint and ink stored on his desk. There’s a four-poster bed in the corner. His cane is propped against it, next to several marionettes. A stash of candy is heaped on his nightstand.

Caliborn looks at you expectantly.

> Mess with him.  
> Explain to him what’s going on.

* * *

> Mess with him.

It’s just a dream, so it doesn’t matter if he knows the full story, right? Besides, you’re ultimately here for Jake. This is just for the lulz. You’re a troll at heart, humanity notwithstanding.

Dirk: So what’s this game all about, anyway?  
Caliborn: YOU SHOULD ALREADY KNOW GODDAMN WELL WHAT THIS IS ABOUT.  
Dirk: You wanted a duel, right? You were going to ask me to draw my gun, earlier.

Caliborn seems puzzled. You think that’s wildly appropriate.

Caliborn: NO, IDIOT. I WANTED YOu TO PRODuCE ARTWORK FOR ME.  
Dirk: Oh.  
Dirk: Is that still a thing you’re interested in?  
Caliborn: I ALWAYS TAKE A PARTICuLAR INTEREST IN WHAT YOu’RE uP TO.

> Accuse him of stalking you.  
> Draw him some borderline pornographic sequential arts.

* * *

> Accuse him of stalking you.

[♫ HS Vol. 9 - Three's a Crowd](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/threes-a-crowd)

Dirk: What, so you’ve been following me around?  
Caliborn: WHAT?  
Dirk: You’re spying on me?  
Caliborn: ...  
Caliborn: IF I WAS SPYING ON YOu, WHY WOuLD I LET YOu INTO MY HOuSE?  
Dirk: You probably have the whole place bugged.  
Caliborn: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Oh shit, this is 1928. Fuck. Uh.

Dirk: Tell me what you know!

He rolls his eyes at you and shoves his hands in his pockets.

Caliborn: IT’S NOT EXACTLY DIFFICuLT TO PROCuRE INFORMATION ABOuT YOuR WHEREABOuTS. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOu MAKE A HABIT OF VISITING THE SAME BAR TIME AND AGAIN. WHICH IS ILLEGAL AND AGAINST THE RuLES.  
Dirk: So you _have_ been stalking me!  
Caliborn: YOu HAVEN’T BEEN DISCREET.  
Caliborn: I KNOW YOu’RE A MEMBER OF THE MIDNIGHT CREW.  
Dirk: There’s no way you could know that.  
Caliborn: I’VE SEEN YOu IN CAHOOTS WITH DROOG AND DEuCE. I’M NOT OBLIVIOuS.  
Caliborn: TO RISK BEING HERE TONIGHT. SO BRAZENLY IN OPPOSITION TO MY FAMILY. YOu’RE EITHER VERY BRAVE. OR VERY STuPID.  
Caliborn: PROBABLY BOTH.

You don’t have a response to that. This is going downhill, fast.

Dirk: So what if I am? What are you going to do about it?  
Caliborn: WHAT DO YOu THINK?

> Shoot him.  
> Stab him.

* * *

> Shoot him.

[♫ HS Vol. 9 - Three's a Crowd](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/threes-a-crowd)

You’re not proficient with firearms but you _did_ grab that pistol, earlier, back at the Midnight Crew base. May as well use it. No sense in hoarding inventory items that you won’t whip out in a fight, right?

You aim the gun at him, with one hand, and prepare to fire.

Caliborn, however, has no reaction. You scoff.

Dirk: What, not scared of me?  
Caliborn: YOuR IGNORANCE IS DISTuRBING IN ITS OWN RIGHT.

You thrust your hand out further, gripping the pistol tightly. He stays facing you, but reaches back towards his bed to grab his cane, which is leaning against his nightstand.

The pistol is heavier than you thought. Your hold is wavering. Fuck.

Caliborn holds his cane in front of him, defensively.

Caliborn: YOu NEED TO GET OuT OF HERE. NOW.  
Dirk: How the fuck are you so calm?!  
Caliborn: HOW THE FuCK DO YOu KNOW SO LITTLE ABoUT THE 1911 YOu’RE POINTING AT ME?

He steps towards you, the cane clutched against his body with his elbow. He easily takes the pistol from your hand, and lowers your arm for you. He empties the magazine, ejects the round in the chamber, and slips the bullets into his pocket. Then he gives the pistol back to you.

Caliborn: YOuR SAFETY’S ON. AND YOu’RE HOLDING IT WRONG.  
Caliborn: IF YOu TRIED TO FIRE IT THE WAY YOu HAD IT, IT WOuLDN’T WORK. EVEN IF IT FIRED, SOMEHOW, YOu DIDN’T HAVE IT STEADY WHATSOEVER.

Well, shit. That’s what you get for bringing a weapon you’re not familiar with.

Dirk: Uh. Oops?  
Caliborn: GET THE FuCK OuT OF MY BEDROOM, DIRK.

> Leave.

* * *

> Stab him.

[♫ HS Vol. 9 - Three's a Crowd](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/threes-a-crowd)

You take out the switchblade. It’s no katana, but it’ll have to do.

Caliborn takes a step back away from you. You flashstep and advance upon him. He holds up his arms to defend himself, but you’re too quick for that shit. You weren’t going for his perfectly stabbable torso, anyway.

You dart in for a low blow and strike your knife across the back of his calf. The blade tears through his dress slacks before skidding off the... metal? Beneath it?

Caliborn: WHAT THE FuCK ARE YOu DOING?  
Dirk: You have a prosthetic leg?  
Caliborn: YES, DuMBASS.  
Dirk: Oh. Then, uh... that wouldn’t...  
Caliborn: NOPE. YOuR PLAN OF ATTACK WOuLDN’T WORK.

Well then.

Caliborn puts additional distance between the two of you and glares daggers. Apropos.

Caliborn: THANKS FOR RuINING MY PANTS.  
Caliborn: GET THE FuCK OuT OF MY BEDROOM, DIRK.

> Leave.

* * *

> Leave

You slink back into the hallway, defeated and frankly embarrassed. You retrace your steps through the mansion, careful to keep quiet, until you run into a familiar face.

[♫ HS Cherubim - Constant Confinement](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/constant-confinement)

Calliope: dirk! ^u^  
Calliope: how did yoU manage to get so tUrned aroUnd that yoU’re in oUr private qUarters?  
Calliope: this simply will not do.

You freeze. Shit.

Calliope: what _ever_ were yoU doing back here?

> Just getting some fresh air.  
> Fucking your brother.

* * *

> Just getting some fresh air.

Dirk: The party’s so stuffy. Too many people, you know? I had to get some fresh air.  
Calliope: oh! and yoU foUnd this seclUded, dUsty hall to be more to yoUr liking, did yoU?  
Calliope: this area is not for gUests! u_u

Something about this exchange is giving you the fucking creeps.

Dirk: Is there a problem?  
Calliope: i don’t rightly know. is there?

Uh.

Calliope: is there something yoU’d like to share with me, mr. strider?  
Calliope: your cUrrent occUpation, perhaps?

You swallow the lump in your throat, or attempt to, anyway.

Dirk: Shoe salesman.  
Calliope: it’s so qUaint that yoU think yoU can sUccessfully lie to me.

Her eyes leave yours for a moment, and her expression brightens.

Calliope: ah! there yoU are at last!  
Dirk: What--

You’re swept off your feet by a massive set of hands.

Cans tells you to watch it or he’ll clock you into next week. Maybe even the next fiscal year, if you try any funny business.

Calliope: that’s very sweet, bUt i had something else in mind, if it’s not too much troUble!  
Calliope: see to it that he won’t be retUrning to the festivities tonight. i’m sUre father will want to deal with him.  
Calliope: coUld yoU please take mr. strider to oUr basement?  
Calliope: i’d be mUch obliged!

Cans nods and begins to stomp his way down the hall, with your ribs nearly crushed in his titanic grip.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

*GAME OVER*

* * *

> Fucking your brother.

Dirk: Your brother and I were getting to know one another. Biblically.  
Calliope: that’s oUr qUirky dirky! uwu  
Calliope: yoU oUght to know, however, that if yoU and he had, in fact, been getting acqUainted, the rest of Us sUrely woUld’ve felt the whole bUilding shake!  
Dirk: I... what?  
Calliope: oh my, yoU’re mUch more oUt of the loop than i thoUght.

This is not going the way you anticipated, at all.

Dirk: I’ll just be on my way, then.  
Calliope: i find it cUrioUs that yoU assUme yoU can Use my brother against me in sUch a fashion.  
Calliope: he and i have oUr disagreements, of coUrse, bUt yoU know what they say aboUt a hoUse divided!  
Dirk: It won’t stand for this?  
Calliope: bingo! ^u^

Calliope draws a magic wand from her coat pocket and holds it aloft. You think that you’re going to shit yourself any second now.

Calliope: let’s find a sUitable pUnishment for an assassin and spy from a rival gang who thinks he can intrUde Upon oUr privacy, rUn amok in oUr home, threaten to mUrder oUr coUsin, and manipUlate me with a rUse aboUt sedUcing my sibling, hm?

She prods the wand into your back, which seems unnecessary since it’s a ranged weapon, but whatever. You lift your hands into the air as she walks you forward, down the hall, far past Caliborn’s room.

Dirk: Can’t we talk this over?  
Calliope: yoU and I will sUrely have mUch to discUss, don’t you fret!

*GAME OVER*

* * *

> Explain to him what’s going on.

[♫ HS One Year Older - Game Over](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/game-over)

Dirk: I don’t know how to best explain this, really, so I’ll just be out with it.  
Caliborn: WHAT? WHAT’S WRONG?

When you talk to Jake, the news will have to be broken much more gently than this, but you think Caliborn can handle the truth.

Dirk: You’re fictional.  
Caliborn: WHAT THE FuCK?!  
Caliborn: HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?  
Dirk: You’re a figment of _Jake’s_ imagination. So’s this entire world, and so was the Dirk you knew, until I used my powers as a Prince of Heart to access this splinter self of me that Jake created in his mind.  
Dirk: He populated his dream with people he knew, which allowed me to tap into my alternate consciousness here.  
Caliborn: WHY IS IT JAKE’S IMAGINATION?  
Dirk: He’s in a coma in the real world. Been out for four days, but we don’t know why. I entered this place to investigate, and to bring him back.  
Caliborn: HuH.

You watch him as he thinks this over. You expected him to lash out, but he’s taking it in stride thus far. He seems contemplative, if a bit shocked.

Caliborn: SO ALL OF THIS...?  
Dirk: Isn’t real.

He shrugs, and smirks at you.

Caliborn: THAT DEPENDS ON YOuR DEFINITION OF REALITY.  
Caliborn: IT’S HIGHLY SuBJECTIVE, ISN’T IT?  
Dirk: Yeah. That’s true.  
Dirk: I didn’t think you’d get all philosophical on me.  
Caliborn: IT PuTS THESE EVENTS INTO PERSPECTIVE.  
Dirk: How so?

Caliborn looks at you with an expression that’s startlingly close to wistful fondness. Today’s full of surprises, even without getting into the nuance of dreamscapes and multiple waking consciousness disorder.

Caliborn: SINCE YOU ARRIVED AT THE GALA. I COULD TELL SOMETHING WAS DIFFERENT ABOUT YOU.  
Caliborn: I COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT. BUT THIS EXPLAINS IT.  
Caliborn: THE DIRK YOu TOOK OVER FOR. *MY* DIRK.  
Caliborn: HE AND I WERE PLAYING A GAME.  
Dirk: That so?  
Caliborn: ALL OF THE ANTICS AND CONFLICT BETWEEN THE RIVAL GANGS. WAS PART OF A REALLY LONG TERM AND ESOTERIC COuRTSHIP PROCESS. THAT MAY APPEAR BIZARRE. BuT MAKES PERFECT SENSE IN OuR MINDS.  
Dirk: Sounds familiar.  
Caliborn: DOES IT?

Caliborn goes quiet, and fiddles with one of the clips of his suspenders.

Caliborn: SO WHAT HAPPENS WHEN HE WAKES uP?

> The dream collapses.  
> I don’t know.

* * *

> I don’t know.

Dirk: I can’t say for sure. The only way to find out is to go through with it.  
Caliborn: THAT’S IT? YOu HAVE NO IDEA? NO SPECuLATION WHATSOEVER?  
Dirk: Not really. It wouldn’t be my place to hazard a guess.  
Caliborn: ...  
Caliborn: HM.  
Caliborn: IF YOu SAY SO.

Now you’re both quiet. He clips and unclips the suspenders on the high waist of his pants. The noise starts to get on your nerves. You need to change the topic.

> Ask about the marionettes.  
> Draw him some borderline pornographic sequential arts.

* * *

> Ask about the marionettes.

[♫ HS Vol. 9 - Sweet Dreams, Timaeus](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/sweet-dreams-timaeus)

You gesture towards the marionettes next to his bed.

Dirk: What’s with the puppets?  
Caliborn: I SHOuLD HAVE FIGuRED THAT YOu’D BE INTERESTED IN PuLLING THE STRINGS.  
Dirk: You know me. I see delicate things I can manipulate, and I’m itching to get my hands in there.  
Caliborn: THAT’S ONE WAY TO PuT IT.

He picks one up. It looks awfully similar to Lil Cal, but you don’t tell him that. He won’t have any context for it.

Caliborn: DO YOu WANT TO TRY?  
Dirk: Sure.

He hands the puppet to you. You make it lift its arms and legs and dance around for a while. Caliborn watches the way your hands move, and gives you pointers on how to better influence the movement of the marionette.

Caliborn: THE DIRK I KNEW... HE WAS AN EXPERT AT THIS.  
Caliborn: NO ONE KNEW HOW TO MANIPuLATE THE FINE-TuNED DETAILS OF A SITuATION QuITE LIKE HE COuLD.  
Caliborn: THERE'S A REASON THE MIDNIGHT CREW HIRED HIM AS AN ASSASSIN.  
Dirk: Sounds like he was better suited to his job than I am.  
Caliborn: YES. SO IT WOuLD SEEM.  
Caliborn: HE WAS AN INTENSELY VIOLENT PERSON. A CuTTHROAT, uLTRAMASCuLINE SORT OF GuY. YOu COuLD TELL HE REVELED IN IT, RATHER THAN REGRETTING CONFLICT WAS NECESSARY.  
Caliborn: HE ANTAGONIZED ME AT EVERY TuRN. EVENTuALLY I BEGAN TO HuRL INSuLTS AND ASSAuLTS BACK IN HIS DIRECTION. IT WAS THE PRIMARY WAY HE SOuGHT TO COMMuNICATE.  
Caliborn: IF MY GuESS IS CORRECT, WHAT HE WANTED MOST WAS FOR ME TO IMPRESS HIM DuRING COMBAT. HE MADE ME JuMP THROuGH A LOT OF HuRDLES JuST TO BE ABLE TO CONTACT HIM.  
Caliborn: I HAD A LOT OF TROuBLE READING HIM. HE WAS DISTANT. TOuGH TO GET AHOLD OF. SOMETHING OF AN ENIGMA.  
Dirk: Inscrutable.  
Caliborn: YEAH.  
Caliborn: IF HE WAS ANYTHING LIKE YOu, IT WAS DIFFICuLT TO DISCERN IT.

Your throat feels dry. You swallow against it. Is that how Jake sees you? Enough that he made it a reality in his subconscious? Or is that who you really are, and you just haven't been paying attention to your own actions?

You glance at the clock on the wall. Shit. You’ve been away for too long.

Dirk: I should go.  
Caliborn: ALRIGHT.

Caliborn looks disappointed, like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t get the chance to say it. He puts the Lil Cal marionette on his bed.

Caliborn: SO. uH.  
Dirk: Yeah?  
Caliborn: GOOD LuCK. WITH THE DREAM THING.  
Dirk: Oh.  
Dirk: Thanks.  
Caliborn: DON’T MENTION IT.

He sits down on his mattress, next to the puppet, and smiles at you. It strikes you as half-hearted, like he can’t bring himself to be enthusiastic.

Caliborn: YOu SHOuLD GO FIND JAKE.  
Caliborn: MAYBE I’LL SEE YOu LATER. WHEN IT’S ALL OVER.  
Dirk: Sure, yeah. We’ll see.

Caliborn keeps his gaze lowered and when he speaks, it’s to you, but directed towards the Lil Cal lookalike.

Caliborn: GOODBYE, DIRK.  
Dirk: Later.

You exit his room and make your way back towards the goings-on at the gala. Once you’re back with the crowd, Jake catches your eye and gives you a quizzical look. He quickly takes your hand and brings you to a balcony that’s also on the second floor.

_Jake: Some date you are strider! A real peach. Scampering off as soon as i turn my back. What do you have to say for yourself hm?_

_> ”What was I supposed to do?”_  
_> ”I missed you.”_  
_> ”Nothing.”_

_^ MAIN GAME_

* * *

> Draw him some borderline pornographic sequential arts.

[♫ HS Vol. 9 - Sweet Dreams, Timaeus](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/sweet-dreams-timaeus)

You step over to his desk and gesture towards his art supplies.

Dirk: Is it cool if I use these?  
Caliborn: SuRE, IF YOU WANT.

You sit down and open a small bottle of India ink, and dip the nib of a pen into it. You’re going to make a mess, but with any luck, you won’t spill anything onto the coat you borrowed from Jake.

Not that it matters, in the end, you suppose.

Caliborn steps over to watch you while you work. You draw an increasingly absurd series of doodles, including your mutual acquaintances, guests at the party, and members of the Felt and Midnight Crew. They’re so abstracted and shitty you doubt it’ll matter much if he recognizes any of them; even if he does, you can always claim it wasn’t intentional.

Caliborn: THESE ARE FuCKING GREAT.  
Dirk: I’m a professional.  
Caliborn: YOu ARE?  
Dirk: A professional shitposter.

Caliborn frowns.

Caliborn: I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.

Damn. You keep forgetting what year it is. Even though it isn’t really that year at all.

Dirk: It means I draw dumb shit because it’s ironic, and it’s up to me to amuse myself.  
Caliborn: YOU’VE SuCCEEDED IN AMuSING ME, TOO.  
Dirk: Awesome.

You smile at him. He smiles back.

Dirk: You know, I... have this friend, and I've drawn a lot of stuff for him, too.  
Caliborn: WHAT SORT OF STuFF?  
Dirk: Y'know. Just... stuff. Fun stuff. Usually he'd give me prompts, and I'd doodle for him. We made a game out of it.  
Dirk: Even when I was having a shitty day, it made me feel pretty fucking good about myself to hear how much he liked my art.

Caliborn follows the strokes of the pen and the movements of your hand as you draw. When he speaks, it's much more quietly than before.

Caliborn: I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE AN ARTIST.  
Caliborn: BuT I DON'T THINK I'D BE ANY GOOD AT IT.  
Dirk: Aw, dude. You just gotta keep practicing.

Wistful, he glances at his supplies.

Caliborn: NOTHING I PRODuCE IS EVER AS GOOD AS HERS.  
Caliborn: SO WHAT DOES IT MATTER?

It's then that you notice the trash bin next to his desk, crammed full of crumpled paper. Oh.

You aren't sure what to say, so you finish the drawing you were working on, and set the pen down.

You glance at the clock on the wall. Shit. You’ve been away for too long.

Dirk: I should go.  
Caliborn: ALRIGHT.

When you get up from his desk, he takes your place and sits down. He picks up a piece of paper and blows lightly onto the ink to dry it.

Dirk: Are you coming back to the gala?  
Caliborn: MAYBE IN A WHILE.  
Dirk: Okay.

As you turn to leave, you see him using several push-pins to tack your drawings onto his wall. With your hand on the doorknob, you hesitate.

Dirk: Hey, dude?

There’s a silent beat before he responds.

Caliborn: GOODBYE, DIRK.  
Dirk: ...Later.

You exit his room and make your way back towards the goings-on at the gala. Once you’re back with the crowd, Jake catches your eye and gives you a quizzical look. He quickly takes your hand and brings you to a balcony that’s also on the second floor.

_Jake: Some date you are strider! A real peach. Scampering off as soon as i turn my back. What do you have to say for yourself hm?_

_> ”What was I supposed to do?”_  
_> ”I missed you.”_  
_> ”Nothing.”_

_^ MAIN GAME_

* * *

> The dream collapses.

[♫ HS One Year Older - Unlabeled](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/unlabeled)

Dirk: When Jake wakes up, this dream world and everything in it will collapse.  
Caliborn: WHICH MEANS.  
Caliborn: I’M GOING TO DIE.  
Dirk: Well. Sort of.  
Dirk: Does nonexistence count as death?  
Caliborn: IT SOuNDS WORSE. BuT ALSO MORE MERCIFuL.  
Caliborn: SIMuLTANEOUSLY.

There isn’t much distance between the two of you, but the space separating you is enough to give you both pause. His bedroom is so far removed from the guests that you can just barely tune out the noise entirely. Caliborn breaks eye contact with you, and moves away long enough to set his hat down on his bed, before speaking.

Caliborn: CAN I TELL YOu SOMETHING?  
Dirk: Of course, dude.

He takes a step towards you and reaches for your hand again, holding it with both of his.

Caliborn: I COuLD NEVER SAY THIS TO MY DIRK. FROM THIS WORLD.  
Caliborn: OuR GAME WAS CHOCK FuLL OF BuLLSHIT POSTuRING. WE INDuLGED OuR AGGRESSION. AND TurNED EVERYTHING INTO A BLOODSPORT.  
Caliborn: THE CONFLICT BETWEEN THE MIDNIGHT CREW AND THE FELT PROVIDED AN EASY EXCuSE.  
Caliborn: BuT SINCE IT’S ALL GOING TO BE OVER SOON. IT DOESN’T MATTER, DOES IT?  
Dirk: Not really.  
Dirk: I mean. It’s whatever time you have left. You should do what feels right.  
Caliborn: YOu THINK SO?  
Dirk: I know so.  
Dirk: You won’t have another chance.

He steps closer to you, and you realize that he was referring to the situation with you. Which, duh. You kind of suspected that was the case to begin with, though, since he’s flat-out caressing your hand as he talks to you.

Caliborn: YOu’RE NOT *MY* DIRK. BuT YOu’RE STILL *A* DIRK. AND THAT MAKES YOu IMPORTANT TO ME.  
Dirk: Sorry I supplanted him.  
Caliborn: YOu COuLDN’T HELP IT. IT WAS BOuND TO HAPPEN EVENTuALLY.  
Caliborn: I WOuLDN’T’VE BEEN ABLE TO BE THIS HONEST WITH HIM, ANYWAY.

Caliborn runs his hands up your chest and settles them on your shoulders, his fingertips digging into your upper arms through several layers of clothing. His face is very close to yours. You notice that his eyelashes are kind of ridiculous at this proximity.

Dirk: It’s okay.  
Caliborn: IT’S NOT YET. BuT IT WILL HAVE TO BE.  
Caliborn: IT WILL BE OKAY. ONCE I COME TO TERMS WITH THE FORCES OF INEVITABILITY.

He takes a step forward, and you move back to accommodate him, until your back is against the wall between his nightstand and the door. He runs his hands up into your hair to play with it, but he makes no move to mess with your shades. Damn right.

Despite the clock ticking for you both, he’s hesitating.

Dirk: Go for it, man.

Caliborn cups your face in his hands and kisses you. With no one around to watch or judge, he goes slowly, more gently than you would’ve anticipated. You wonder if he’s afraid he’ll wake you up, somehow, by virtue of touching you at all.

Caliborn: I’VE WANTED TO DO THAT FOR SO LONG.  
Caliborn: IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE THAT IT’S TRuLY BEEN ONLY FOuR DAYS.  
Dirk: You can do it again if you want.  
Caliborn: WHILE I STILL CAN?  
Dirk: Yeah.

He takes your advice and kisses you again, more insistently than before, now that he’s determined the dream world isn’t so fragile as to dissolve by merely interacting with you. His teeth graze your lower lip, his tongue touches to yours, and his thigh settles in between your legs. You put your arms over his shoulders and pull him closer.

Caliborn: YOu FEEL REAL.  
Dirk: You feel good.  
Caliborn: HEH.

Your outfit doesn’t allow much access to your neck, but he tries anyway, and kisses your jawline and throat until you’re grateful the wall’s behind you, to keep you steadied. You press back against his thigh, and you know damn well that he can feel how hard you are. The more worked up you both get, the more he shoves you against the wall. You hope nobody passing by can hear anything.

You wonder where he’s going with this.

He tugs at your hair, and uses his free hand to push your collar out of the way to lick at your skin. You laugh, flustered, and he lifts his head to kiss you again.

Caliborn: DIRK?  
Dirk: Yeah?  
Caliborn: CAN I SuCK YOU OFF?

> Yes.  
> Hell yes.  
> Hell fucking yes.  
> No.

* * *

> No.

Your heart is racing and you think this is a good place to stop. You shake your head.

Dirk: No.

Caliborn pulls away from you, and tries to gauge your reaction.

Caliborn: ARE YOu OKAY?  
Dirk: Yeah.  
Caliborn: ALRIGHT.

He leans in once more to kiss your cheek, which is tricky with the shades somewhat blocking his path.

Caliborn: THANK YOu.  
Dirk: No problem.

You touch his face, the leather palm of your glove smooth against his cheek.

Dirk: Glad to be here.  
Caliborn: I’M GLAD YOu TOOK THE TIME TO BE WITH ME.

He grins at you.

Caliborn: I HOPE YOu CAN SAVE THE DAY. AND ALL THAT HEROIC BuLLSHIT.  
Dirk: That’s the plan!  
Caliborn: I DON’T WANT YOu TO GO. BuT YOu PROBABLY SHOuLD.  
Caliborn: THEY’LL BE WONDERING WHERE THE FuCK YOu WENT.

You can tell he’s bummed out about you going back to Jake, and also about, y’know. His entire life being someone else’s temporary dream world.

You kiss his forehead.

Dirk: It’ll all be over soon.  
Caliborn: YEAH.

You let your hand fall away from his face and straighten out your clothing, not that it matters much when push comes to shove, here. You have to go resolve this situation. Now.

Dirk: Take care, okay?  
Caliborn: I’LL TRY.

He stands next to the door as you return to the hallway, and watches you until you turn the corner and are out of sight. You hear his bedroom door close far behind you.

You make your way back towards the goings-on at the gala. Once you’re back with the crowd, Jake catches your eye and gives you a quizzical look. He quickly takes your hand and brings you to a balcony that’s also on the second floor.

_Jake: Some date you are strider! A real peach. Scampering off as soon as i turn my back. What do you have to say for yourself hm?_

_> ”What was I supposed to do?”_  
_> ”I missed you.”_  
_> ”Nothing.”_

_^ MAIN GAME_

* * *

> Yes.  
> Hell yes.  
> Hell fucking yes.

[♫ HS Vol. 9 - Negative Aperture](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/negative-aperture)

Dirk: Yes. _Please_ , yes.  
Caliborn: I WAS HOPING YOu’D SAY THAT.

He moves his hands down to rest at your hips, and touches along the length of your erection through your trousers. He kisses you once more, for good measure, before kneeling in front of you on the floor. You slide your ass down along the wall so he doesn’t have to reach as much, and he uses the opportunity to open your fly and take your dick into his hand.

You stare down at him, eyes half-lidded behind your shades, and watch as he runs his long, black tongue over the head, where it’s still covered by your foreskin. He catches you staring, and licks over you again, his eyes locked with yours.

Caliborn: I’VE THOuGHT ABOuT THIS FOR A LONG TIME, TOO.  
Dirk: Yeah?  
Caliborn: OR MAYBE FOuR DAYS. HAA!  
Caliborn: STILL.

He keeps one hand wrapped around the base of your dick, jacking you off more or less in time with his lapping at you. The other hand braces against your hips, his fingertips digging into the incredibly expensive material of your suit, which exists by the grace of paradox space. You briefly wish you’d alchemized additional fancy clothing during your session, but this isn’t the time to think about grist-related regrets.

You rest your hand against his nightstand to keep your balance; ninja bullshit or not, your legs are shaking. You accidentally knock some pieces of candy off the nightstand, but Caliborn doesn’t seem to mind, and neither do you. Your breathing goes from steady to ragged, and as you allow yourself to vocalize the success of his efforts, he closes his eyes and increases the pace. The wet sounds his tongue is making are enough to get your own eyes shut, so you can focus on listening to him lick and suck at you, and concentrate on how good you feel.

You really hope nobody in the hall can hear you, because you’ve stopped making any attempts to stifle yourself.

Dirk: _Fuck!_  
Caliborn: t~mut <3

You’re the kind of guy who isn’t bothered by someone’s dialogue including the concept of emoji, so you carry on with what you were already doing, which is trying to still your hips enough that you don’t have any mishaps with Caliborn’s teeth, or make him uncomfortable in general.

You feel hot. This whole affair is hot. You think the suit was worth wearing for this, even if it’s all sweated up and kind of gross now. You don’t care.

You just want to come.

Dirk: Fuck, go faster.  
Dirk: Please, go faster, _fuck!_

Caliborn speeds up the movements of his fist, his forked tongue curling around the head of your dick, his other hand teasing his claws across your stomach, beneath your vest and dress shirt. You tilt your head back against the wall and cry out as you ejaculate onto his waiting tongue. _Waiting_ may not even be accurate, because he never stopped moving it, eager as he was to get you off.

Dirk: Ohhh my god.  
Caliborn: THAT GOOD, HuH?

He licks at your cock and at his fingers until your spunk is cleared away. His face is flushed; he looks thoroughly pleased with himself.

Caliborn: SO? HOW WAS IT?

You bite your lip and breathe in through your nose, then exhale deeply.

Dirk: Your tongue is so good. You’re so good to me.

He gives you a thumbs up from where he’s kneeling.

Now what?

> Offer to go down on him.  
> Ask what he wants to do.  
> Leave.

* * *

> Leave.

Wow, are you sure? Just like that? Gonna pull up your pants and bail?

> Leave.  
> Wait, what were my options again?

* * *

> Leave

Without saying another word, you fasten your pants and leave Caliborn kneeling on his bedroom floor. He stares at you with a bitterness and resentment you choose to ignore. You also choose not to think of it as betrayal. You got shit to do, and he’s not even real. He won’t remember it.

You slink back into the hallway, smugly satisfied. Your thighs are still shaking. You retrace your steps through the mansion, careful to keep quiet, until you run into a familiar face.

[♫ HS Cherubim - Constant Confinement](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/constant-confinement)

Calliope: dirk! ^u^  
Calliope: how did yoU manage to get so tUrned aroUnd that yoU’re in oUr private qUarters?  
Calliope: this simply will not do.

You freeze. Shit.

Calliope: what _ever_ were yoU doing back here?

> Just getting some fresh air.  
> Fucking your brother.

* * *

> Ask what he wants to do.

Dirk: So, that was one hell of an idea. Got any other ideas I should hear about?  
Caliborn: uH.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and stands up. You tuck yourself back into your pants and get your clothing in order.

Caliborn: WE COuLD... CuDDLE, IF YOu WANT?  
Dirk: That’d be fuckin’ nice.

You lie down on his bed, propped up on your elbow, and wait for him to climb in beside you. He’s clearly aware that time is limited, because he curls in against you the instant you’re both horizontal.

You put your arms around him, and let him tuck his head against your chest. Neither of you say anything; instead, you listen to the soft sounds of each other’s breathing, and the far-off din of the guests at the gala.

After several minutes pass, he lifts his head to kiss your cheek once more, which is tricky with the shades somewhat blocking his path.

Caliborn: THANK YOu.  
Dirk: No problem.

You touch his face, the leather palm of your glove smooth against his cheek.

Dirk: Glad to be here.  
Caliborn: I’M GLAD YOu TOOK THE TIME TO BE WITH ME.

He grins at you.

Caliborn: I HOPE YOu CAN SAVE THE DAY. AND ALL THAT HEROIC BuLLSHIT.  
Dirk: That’s the plan!  
Caliborn: I DON’T WANT YOu TO GO. BuT YOu PROBABLY SHOuLD.  
Caliborn: THEY’LL BE WONDERING WHERE THE FuCK YOu WENT.

You can tell he’s bummed out about you going back to Jake, and also about, y’know. His entire life being someone else’s temporary dream world.

You kiss his forehead.

Dirk: It’ll all be over soon.  
Caliborn: YEAH.

You let your hand fall away from his face and straighten out your clothing, not that it matters much when push comes to shove, here. You have to go resolve this situation. Now.

Dirk: Take care, okay?  
Caliborn: I’LL TRY.

He stands next to the door as you return to the hallway, and watches you until you turn the corner and are out of sight. You hear his bedroom door close far behind you.

You make your way back towards the goings-on at the gala. Once you’re back with the crowd, Jake catches your eye and gives you a quizzical look. He quickly takes your hand and brings you to a balcony that’s also on the second floor.

_Jake: Some date you are strider! A real peach. Scampering off as soon as i turn my back. What do you have to say for yourself hm?_

_> ”What was I supposed to do?”_  
_> ”I missed you.”_  
_> ”Nothing.”_

_^ MAIN GAME_

* * *

> Offer to go down on him.

It’s the considerate thing to do, even though there was no indication this was quid pro quo. You’re pretty sure he would’ve been okay with stopping here, too, but you _want_ to return the favor.

Besides, if you suspected he was worked up while you were dancing together, it must be far more intense now. There’s color on his cheeks--more than usual--and his breathing has sped up. He looks hot.

Dirk: I’d love to get you back, if that’s cool.  
Caliborn: OH FuCK.

He gets to his feet. He looks at your eyes, then glances down to your lips, and then back up again.

Caliborn: GOD. WOuLD YOU?  
Dirk: Fuck yes.  
Caliborn: _PLEASE._  
Dirk: Well, since you’re being so polite.

You probably should’ve zipped your fly back up, but you guys are alone, so it’s no big deal. As you reach down to cup your hand against his crotch, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky sigh.

Dirk: Is there anything different about sex with cherubs I should know? Anything earth-shattering?  
Caliborn: NOT WITH A HuMAN PARTNER.  
Dirk: Alright.  
Dirk: If I fuck something up just say so, it’s chill.  
Caliborn: I WILL. NOW KISS ME.

You do. You kiss him, and he’s touching his tongue to yours with no hesitation. You press the heel of your palm between his legs, as rhythmically as you can manage while making out with him, and he pushes back against your hand. The soft noises he makes become increasingly urgent the longer you touch him.

Caliborn: FuCK, DIRK. I WANT YOu.  
Dirk: That makes two of us.  


He snorts, amused.

Caliborn: YOu WANT YOuRSELF?  
Dirk: You knew what I meant. Shut up.  
Caliborn: I AM ONLY GOING TO GET LOuDER.  
Dirk: That a promise?  
Caliborn: BASED ON WHAT I NOW KNOW FROM KISSING YOU.  
Caliborn: IT SEEMS LIKELY.  
Dirk: Hell of a vote of confidence, damn. Thanks.

He reaches between the two of you to hold your wrist, to keep your hand in place where you’re rocking it against him. He looks somewhat frustrated, like he can’t get the leverage he wants, and like he’s very ready to be out of his own trousers.

Dirk: You wanna lie down?  
Caliborn: GOOD CALL.

He pulls away from you, eager to get more comfortable, and shoves his hat and some marionettes out of the way before sitting down on his bed. You watch as he goes through the ordeal of unlacing his shoes and taking them off along with his socks, then unclipping his suspenders from his trousers so he can shove them down and off. The boxers he’s got on aren’t far off from modern clothing, although there’s a few buttons instead of an elastic waistband.

You notice he has a prosthetic right leg, from just below his knee. It looks golden, but whether it’s solid or plated or painted, you can't tell, and with limited information about Prohibition Era medical advancements, you have no idea what the deal is. The 1920s look doesn’t match the tech you used, that’s for sure.

The red swirls on his cheeks are distinctly not solid. His teeth are intact, with nothing remarkable or noteworthy to be said. These details feel significant to you, but you don’t know why.

That’s not what’s important, anyway, because he’s shoving his boxers down, too, and giving you the most intense look you’ve ever had aimed in your direction. Your chest feels tight; so does the pit of your stomach, for that matter.

Just like you, he’s kept his shirt on for this, with his suspenders hanging loosely over his shoulders, clipped to nothing. You take off your coat (which technically isn’t yours, but also technically isn’t even real, so who cares) and lay it down on the floor to pad your knees. You position yourself between his legs, and brace your hands on his inner thighs to spread him open.

Caliborn: DIRK.  
Dirk: Yeah?

He laughs, mildly self-conscious.

Caliborn: I WANT YOu TO GET ME OFF.  
Dirk: Fuck yeah, dude.

You slip your hand under his shirt to lift it up, and lower your head to kiss his stomach. You feel his abs tense as you do this, and you get a kick out of it. Nice. Unless you take off your shades, though, you’re going to wind up stabbing him with their sharp edges, so you pull back for a moment to remove them and set them on the nightstand.

Caliborn: YOu CAN KEEP THEM ON IF YOu WANT TO.  
Dirk: Nah. I’m good.  
Dirk: Thanks, though.

You reposition yourself, and have both of your hands on his thighs again when you realize Caliborn is trying to make eye contact with you. Oh.

You let him.

Dirk: Everything okay?  
Caliborn: THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I’VE SEEN YOuR EYES.  
Dirk: He, uh. The other me never let you?  
Caliborn: NO.

You lift a hand to brush your bangs away from your face, and smile at him. Caliborn pulls an uncomfortable-looking maneuver to sit up, lean over, and kiss you. You tilt your chin up to receive it.

Caliborn: THEY’RE A GOOD COLOuR.  
Dirk: Can’t help it. I was cloned this way.  
Caliborn: WHAT?

Shit, there you go again.

Dirk: Nevermind. Just a joke.

He copies your gesture and runs his fingers up through your hair.

Caliborn: I’M GLAD YOu’RE HERE.  
Dirk: Way better to get glad than get mad, am I right?  
Caliborn: YEAH.

He doesn’t get the advertising joke, either, but it’s just dumb trivia at your point in human history, anyway.

Caliborn lets his hand fall away from your face and leans back on his bed, his weight supported on his elbows. He hooks his knees over your shoulders, and you take that as your cue to move back in. You’ve never seen [cherub junk](http://freakyhumanshit.tumblr.com/post/116620825475/unified-theory-of-cherub-junk-the-lifes-work-of) before, but from what you can tell, it doesn’t seem completely unfamiliar, and as long as you get some feedback, you can handle this. You intend to handle this a lot, actually.

You keep your right hand on his hip, and use your left to trace a fingertip over the slit of his vent, then to his cloacal spurs. You glance up at his face as he watches you, transfixed. Careful not to hurt him, you gently slide the pad of your finger along the underside of his cloacal flap. It’s not dry, exactly, but it’s not that wet, either. You can fix that.

Dirk: You ready to get gladder?  
Caliborn: VERY MuCH SO.

You lower your mouth to him and lick sideways along his slit, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning when he shivers in response. You lick across his skin again, until you’re starting to get a feel for how fast or firmly you should go. The more attention you give him, the more his hemipenes evert from beneath the flap. You gave him a cherub boner. Good.

Once there’s enough exposed for you to do so, you get your lips around him on one side, and suck a hemipenis into your mouth. They’re each maybe the size of your thumb, but tapered, and against your tongue it feels smooth and fleshy, sort of like sucking on the inside of your cheek. You keep suction on it and lap your tongue over it, lips sealed tight around him, and he does get louder, as promised. Caliborn gives up watching you and lies back fully on his bed, hips raised to push towards your face.

You switch sides and suckle on the opposite one for a while. His hemipenes feel good in your mouth, and you’ve familiarized yourself enough that you can close your eyes and really get into it. To change it up, you return your efforts to his cloacal flap, and work your tongue over it and up inside him. You keep your gloved hand pressed flat to his stomach as you go, and listen for the needy, appreciative noises he lets out as you eat him out.

You push your tongue into his cloaca, his hemipenes rubbing against your cheek, and feel him press his heels into your back as he moans. He’s extremely fucking loud.

There’s a knock on the door.

Calliope: caliborn!  
Calliope: i know yoU’re in there.  
Calliope: do yoU intend on retUrning to the festivities tonight?  
Calliope: or have yoU given Up on oUr coUsin and all other forms of socialization for the evening?

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Caliborn tenses, uneasy, and whispers to you.

Caliborn: WHY CAN’T SHE JuST LEAVE ME ALONE?

> Get the hell out of dodge.  
> Keep going.

* * *

> Get the hell out of dodge.

[♫ HS Vol. 9 - Anbroids V2.0](https://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/anbroids-v20)

Oh, _shit_. You have to get out of here, and fast. You pull off and wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your shirt. Where the fuck did you put your shades? Fuck, your pants are still unzipped. Are you even supposed to have a zipper in 1928? When did that become a thing, and-- wait, are you still kneeling on that effigy-coat? Jesus fuck.

Caliborn looks at you with wide eyes, at first confused, and then both confused and upset.

Caliborn: WHAT THE HELL?  
Dirk: Time flies.  
Caliborn: IS THAT SuPPOSED TO BE CLEVER?  
Caliborn: THAT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. NOT EVEN AS A JOKE.

You shrug, chagrined. You got nothin’.

Calliope keeps knocking on the door while you scramble to get your clothing somewhat presentable. There’s no way you can go back out the way you came, not with her blocking the path. You’ve gotta get down to the first floor, somehow. Frantic, you glance around the room for options.

> Jump out the window.

* * *

> Jump out the window.

Bingo.

You’ve pulled some insane acrobatic stunts and/or pirouettes off the handle before, and you can deal with this. Besides, it’s just a dream, so it doesn’t matter if you get hurt. You’re less certain of what might happen if you fuck up the fabric of Jake’s coat, but there’s no time to get hung up on the idiosyncrasies of dreamspace.

You rush over to the window and heave it wide open. Caliborn stares at you from his bed, where he’s still baffled by this abrupt change of plans.

Dirk: Gotta go.  
Caliborn: WHAT THE FuCK?  
Dirk: Call me.

You hold up your hand to the side of your face, in that telephone lookin’ gesture. Caliborn lifts his hands in bewilderment and shakes his head, annoyed.

Caliborn: CALL YOu WHAT?

Oh, right. Fuck. All of this technology is centuries past for you, and if you had to guess, you'd suspect Jake isn't well-versed in what options were or weren't available at this point in history. You're honestly kind of surprised you haven't seen gala guests with iPhones.

Regardless, you don’t have a good comeback to that, so you wave sheepishly at him and do a backflip out the window. If you’re in a dream, you may as well be some sort of anime badass, right? Is this what anime badasses do? Defenestrate themselves?

He shouts after you.

Caliborn: YOu COuLD HAVE TAKEN THE FIRE ESCAPE!

Maybe you should’ve thought about the stairs much earlier. As it stands, it’s too late, and you’re burrowed fuck deep into the bushes surrounding the villa. Plant debris clings to the effigy-coat. Maybe Jake will wake up with mussed hair, or maybe he’ll wake up with a newfound ability to undergo photosynthesis. Who knows.

At any rate, Jake is gonna wake up soon, because one look inside the large window to the gala reveals Jake, surrounded by a crowd of gathered Carapacians, shoving his hand into a box of Cracker Jack.

Holy goddamn, that is so dumb. That is really, really dumb.

There’s no time to stop him, or intervene in any way. Jake brings a large handful of popcorn and peanuts to his mouth, without looking at what ingredients comprise the snack he’s eating. As expected, he goes into anaphylactic shock. The gala guests stand around, watching him. They’re concerned and upset, but no one takes action. Good job. Maybe they think he has a case of the vapors.

Where the fuck’s an EpiPen when you need one?

You’re out of time to make any more jokes at the expense of fictional people from the 1920s, however, because the dream collapses.

> Wake up.

* * *

> Wake up.

You wake with a start, and come to in Jake’s bed. A wall’s worth of posters for mediocre and forgettable movies greets your field of vision. Jake is asleep next to you, for now, but he looks like he’s stirring.

You are immediately aware that you feel gross. It would seem that you have also come in Jake’s bed, but it’s confined to your pants.

Well. Fuck. Maybe having lucid sex dreams in your friend’s room wasn’t such a good idea.

You do a god damned barrel roll over Jake’s body, which, naturally, wakes him right the fuck up.

Jake: Dirk! Whats the big idea?  
Dirk: No time for love, Dr. Jones.

You abandon a highly perplexed Jake, and take the winding steps in his house two at a time. Where the fuck is the bathroom in here? Maybe you should’ve grabbed some spare clothing from Jake’s room before running out of there. With any luck, you’ve got something useful in your sylladex, but normally it’s all in your wardrobifier. Fuck.

Well, so you jizzed in your pants. So what? You still saved the day, kind of. Jake’s awake, and despite making an ass of yourself, you technically completed all of your objectives, and nobody can judge you for that!

You put your hands on your hips, at the top of the third staircase, and stare triumphantly into the middle distance.

Okay, maybe people are gonna judge you. Just a little. Once you get some clean clothes, though, you’ll be alright.

Yeah.

*GAME OVER*

* * *

> Keep going.

Oh, definitely. There’s no fucking way in hell she’s going to ruin this for you both. You wag your eyebrows at him, and he smirks, and you get right back to it.

Calliope: did yoU hear me?  
Calliope: how long do yoU think yoU can ignore me?

Caliborn lies back on his bed again, trying to relax, and flexes his fingers into his sheets. You lap at him, externally and thoroughly, until he’s got his eyes closed. Then you go to town.

Calliope: get oUt here!  
Calliope: yoU had better not be toUching yoUrself!

He very seriously is not the one doing this excellent touching, at the moment. You redouble your efforts, and literally double the attention upon him by taking one hemipenis back into your mouth, and rubbing and lightly twisting your thumb and forefinger over and around the other one. He starts moaning again, deliberately more theatrical than he had been before, and rocks his hips up towards you.

There’s something viscerally satisfying about how he feels under your tongue. You’re enjoying this just as much as he is; you hope he felt the same way when he was going down on you. You suspect that he was, given... well, what he said, primarily.

You pull off for a split second to wet your fingers, and he groans.

Caliborn: FuCK, DON’T STOP!

You instantly resume rubbing and teasing the hemipenis between your fingertips, but concentrate mostly on the one in your mouth. You press your lips all the way down, flush against his vent, and focus on maintaining suction while licking quickly, in flicking motions across and around it.

Caliborn: FuCK! _FuCK!_

He starts moaning wordlessly, and you can tell he’s not holding back on the volume, whatsoever. Fucking hot. Whether it’s to make it clear to anyone in earshot what’s going on, or because he can’t help it, or both, it’s all good. Really good.

You lap at him as fast and hard as you can, still worrying your fingers on his other hemipenis, and feel a pleasant, proud warmth settle in the nape of your neck as you realize you’ve made him come. Semen flows onto your tongue and dribbles onto your fingers, and with your lips and fingertips pressed so close to him, you can feel the muscles in his cloaca contracting through the duration his orgasm.

Fucking hot as fuck.

You lick around in your mouth to clear the taste of semen--not that you’re not a fan--and kiss his inner thigh.

Calliope: yoU’re disgUsting!  
Calliope: yoU shoUld know oUr father will be qUite Unhappy yoU abandoned yoUr dUties tonight!

While she's still shouting, Caliborn puts his hands over the sides of his head, where you know the small holes for his ears are, and takes a deep breath before letting it back out. He smiles, with his eyes closed, and speaks so that only you can hear it.

Caliborn: I JuST CAME SO HARD.

You lick across his slit one more time, where his hemipenes are already mostly hidden again. His thighs twitch, reflexively.

Caliborn: GOD. FuCK.  
Caliborn: YOuR TONGuE IS MY NEW FAVOuRITE THING.  
Dirk: Mm, I’m fuckin’ pleased as hell to hear that.

Caliborn laughs, and rolls onto his side. You shift back so he can pull his legs up as he makes himself comfortable. When he’s got his head on a pillow, he looks at you with heavily-lidded eyes and pats the mattress.

Caliborn: YOu SHOuLD GET uP HERE.

> Cuddle the fuck out of him.

* * *

> Cuddle the fuck out of him.

This is a good plan.

You stretch your arms over your head before climbing onto his bed, and leave the effigy-coat on the floor. Your fly is still unzipped, but instead of fixing it, you decide to shove your pants down and off. Those go onto the floor, too. You don’t bother with taking off your boxer-briefs. You wonder what pseudo-1920s Caliborn would have to say about your modern underwear, but you don’t ask. He didn’t mention it earlier, anyway.

You grab a second pillow and lie down next to him. He fits himself snugly against your back, his legs brushing with yours, your ass backed into his lap, his chin on your shoulder. Caliborn sighs and curls an arm over you, and you grab his hand with your own to hold it against your stomach.

You let your eyes fall closed. There’s a long moment of silence between you before he finally speaks.

Caliborn: SHOuLDN’T YOu BE GETTING BACK TO JAKE?  
Dirk: No.  
Caliborn: NO?  
Dirk: I mean...  
Dirk: I don’t want to.

He drops a kiss to your shoulder, onto the fabric of your vest.

Caliborn: IF YOu HAVE TO LEAVE. I’D uNDERSTAND.  
Dirk: I’m not leaving you.

He pets your stomach in small, idle circles, where the cotton of your shirt is taut to your skin.

Caliborn: I KEPT THINKING YOu’D LEAVE.  
Caliborn: BuT I DIDN’T WANT TO SAY ANYTHING.  
Caliborn: LIKE MENTIONING IT WOuLD BE BAD LuCK.  
Dirk: I’m not going anywhere.  
Caliborn: IT SEEMS TOO GOOD TO BE TRuE.  
Dirk: You deserve it.

You want to assure him that you’ve got your reasons: that you don’t know how to talk to _your_ Caliborn, either, and you’re afraid you’ll forget every fragment of this the instant you wake up. Navigating Derse and dream bubbles is a far cry from whatever’s going on in Jake’s subconscious. You don’t know how the rules apply here. You just don’t want it to end, and something tells you it’s all going to be over far sooner than you’d like.

The anxious feeling in your gut won’t subside.

You turn over in his arms and look at his face. From his expression, you figure he’s just as conflicted about all this as you are. There aren’t many people who find themselves warned of their impending death. All things considered, you think he’s taking it well, but the apprehension towards the invisible countdown timer is starting to affect you both, now that there are fewer distractions.

Caliborn: DIRK?  
Dirk: Yeah?  
Caliborn: WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME?

You stare back at him, and swallow around your own guilt. You wish you could prevent this. You want to fix it, to rearrange and meddle and meticulously orchestrate every last detail until you can make this right, the way you always do. But you’re fucking stuck.

Dirk: I don’t know how to predict it.  
Dirk: But like you said before, nonexistence is... almost merciful, in a way?  
Caliborn: LESS PAINFuL. PROBABLY.  
Dirk: I can’t say for sure, but I think it will be instantaneous. Just... one moment it’s all here, and then as soon as he wakes, it’s gone.  
Caliborn: ...  
Dirk: I’m sorry.

You both look at each other, each of you with your head on a pillow. The four poster bed feels like it’s looming over you. It reminds you of Sburb.

It reminds you of death.

Fuck.

Without saying anything, Caliborn takes both of your hands into his own, and simply holds them. It’s so quiet, you can hear him breathing.

What the fuck is there even to say?

> Wait with him.

* * *

> Wait with him.

[♫ Hans Zimmer - Waiting For A Train](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJDJskAonLc)

The atmosphere in Caliborn’s bedroom has grown oppressive, as much as you’re both willing it to be peaceful, despite the impending... bullshit.

You try to lighten the mood, and tell him about the time you spent an entire afternoon drawing doodles for _your_ Caliborn, and how the two of you made it A Thing after that point. You tell him about the scribbled gift you were given in return. You tell him about transporting robot parts between universes. You tell him about the sendificator.

You also don’t tell him about the sendificator.

He holds your hands through all of it, fascinated by your fingernails and how dull they are, comparatively. You notice that he’s been looking at your hands more than he’s been looking at your face.

Dirk: Am I talking too much?  
Caliborn: IT’S OKAY.  
Caliborn: I LIKE HEARING YOuR VOICE.

It occurs to you that your Caliborn has never heard you speak. You look down at your hands, too.

Dirk: I don’t know what to do.  
Caliborn: IT’S OKAY. REALLY.

He lifts your hands to kiss them, once each, across your knuckles. It’s a little awkward, since you’re both lying down, but he makes it work, and keeps your hands close to his mouth when he speaks again. This time, he meets your eyes, and smiles.

Caliborn: I’M JuST RELIEVED I’M NOT ALONE.

What comes to mind before anything else is that you hate yourself. You try to ignore that impulse and stay focused. You smile back.

Dirk: Me too.

Neither of you says much after that. You listen to the ticking hands of the clock on the wall, as well as the even sound of your breathing. The clock has become a metronome for your lungs, you think, but maybe you just imagined it.

Caliborn’s in the middle of running his organic foot along the back of your calf when gunshots erupt from downstairs. He flinches. You don’t.

Dirk: Don’t listen to that shit.  
Dirk: Whatever’s going on, it doesn’t matter. It’s not fucking real.  
Caliborn: DOES THAT MAKE IT BETTER OR WORSE?

He’s trying to joke with you, but there’s no mistaking his fear. You wrap your arms around him, with one leg between his. He curls his arms back around you, despite your weight pressing one of his arms into the mattress, and hooks one leg over your thigh.

There’s additional gunfire, and the panicked screams of guests, all of them projections from Jake’s subconscious. You wish you could block out the sound.

Caliborn hides his face against your shoulder. You hide yours against his neck.

The so-called Calmasis Villa starts to crumble apart. The drywall of the ceiling cracks until dust and then debris are raining down on you. The canopy protects you for a brief instant, before the weight of the rubble brings it crashing into the bed.

All at once, the noise becomes silence.

> Wake up.

* * *

> Wake up.

[♫ Hans Zimmer - Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IN_HjnxP2SY)

You open your eyes.

At first, everything’s dark. As your vision adjusts, however, you notice the familiar purple spires and structures of Derse. There’s something off about it, however; it doesn’t feel like the Derse you knew, or even a _true_ Derse, whatever that means. Maybe you’re better off not trying to puzzle this out right now.

Regardless of the planet’s authenticity, you find yourself dressed in your dream attire. Gone is the suit, but you’ve got your shades on again. They’re reassuring in their own right.

You don’t see Caliborn. You don’t see any Dersites, either.

You start walking, from tower to tower, street to street, your slippered feet landing softly on cobblestone. You’re alone, and you don’t want to be, but Derse is quiet in ways that are comforting after a lifetime spent wandering its paths while your physical body held still in diluvian Texas. Since you all entered the Sburb session very recently, you’ve spent the vast majority of your time engaged in what your four player planets have to offer.

You’ve missed this place.

At the end of a long series of gentle steps, you come to where the sidewalk ends. Without hesitation, you step into the darkness, and as you suspected, you’re suspended without any need to float. You remember reading, back on Earth, that most people stop flying in their dreams as they get older. You remember thinking, too, that you’d probably never be old enough to find out if that was true.

You follow a direct line forward, until Derse is no more than a faintly glowing hue behind you. There is no light, but it’s never stopped you from seeing.

In the center of nothingness, you find him.

> Talk to Caliborn.

* * *

> Talk to Caliborn.

He’s wearing Derse dreamer pajamas, too. Your Caliborn had told you, of course, that he was a Derse guy, but you hadn’t thought to picture him winding his way past the same buildings, the same bridges, the roads through which you led a one-man resistance.

He’s sitting on the floor, for whatever definition of ‘floor’ applies to the void of a dreamscape. His knees are drawn to his chest, with his arms across them. His head is lifted, looking out into nothing.

From where you’re standing, he seems very small. You’ve never imagined him as fragile before.

You decide to sit down, too, across from him, cross-legged, with your hands folded in your lap. When he notices you, he mimics your posture, and smiles at you across the scant darkness between you.

Caliborn: I WAITED FOR YOu.  
Dirk: I hope I didn’t keep you long.  
Caliborn: YOu DIDN’T.  
Caliborn: IN FACT. IT’S HOPE THAT KEPT ME HERE AT ALL.  
Dirk: What do you mean?  
Caliborn: JAKE IS A HOPE PLAYER. ISN’T HE?  
Dirk: Yeah, he is.  
Caliborn: I’VE THOuGHT ABOuT IT, WHILE WAITING FOR YoU TO ARRIVE.  
Caliborn: HIS HOPE POWERS HAVE A LOT TO DO WITH OuR SITuATION.  
Dirk: How so?

Caliborn reaches out for you, his hand relaxed and turned upward, open to accept yours. You bring your hand down, gently, and clasp his.

Caliborn: I NEVER KNEW YOu IN LIFE, DIRK.  
Caliborn: MY SISTER KEPT ME uNINFLuENCED BY THOSE OuTSIDE OF OuR uNIVERSE.  
Caliborn: THERE WAS NO ONE TO SPEAK TO OTHER THAN HER.  
Caliborn: I KNOW SHE WANTED WHAT WAS BEST FOR uS, AS A TEAM.  
Caliborn: SHE WAS THE ONE WHO’D BEEN HATCHED WITH ALL THE TALENT AND SKILL.

He lets go of your hand, and returns his to his lap. You do the same.

Caliborn: FOR HER TO PREDOMINATE JuST MADE THE MOST SENSE.  
Caliborn: WE DECIDED TO LET THINGS TAKE THEIR NATuRAL COuRSE.  
Dirk: I don’t know what to say.  
Caliborn: IT’S OKAY. TRuLY. YOu DON’T HAVE TO SAY ANYTHING.

He glances around, although there’s nothing to glance at besides you.

Caliborn: I DON’T THINK WE HAVE MuCH TIME HERE.  
Dirk: What makes you say that?  
Caliborn: WHEN THE DREAM COLLAPSED, uNDER TREMENDOuS PRESSuRE, I REALIZED MY POWERS AS A LORD OF TIME.  
Caliborn: THIS MOMENT HAS FALLEN IN MY FAVOuR.  
Caliborn: TIME IS DILATED HERE. JAKE WILL WAKE uP WITHIN SECONDS, IN YOuR WORLD. I’VE EXTENDED IT, BuT NOT FOR LONG.  
Caliborn: I FIGuRE WE’VE GOT A FEW MINuTES, AT MOST.

Your chest feels tight. There are a thousand things you want to say, but none of them seem right.

Dirk: How did this happen?  
Caliborn: I’M STILL NOT SuRE. I DON’T THINK I’M SuPPOSED TO BE HERE.  
Dirk: I don’t think I am, either.  
Caliborn: OH, NOT _HERE_ , HERE. I MEANT IN JAKE’S DREAM.  
Caliborn: A TIME PLAYER SHOuLDN’T BE ABLE TO ENTER SOMEONE ELSE’S CONSCIOuSNESS LIKE THIS. BuT THANKS TO THE NATuRE OF YOuR POWERS, AS WELL AS JAKE’S, THERE’S BEEN A FORTuNATE CONFLuENCE.  
Caliborn: WHAT I AM ISN’T EVEN DEAD.  
Caliborn: I SHOuLDN’T EXIST, DIRK.

You straighten your back and sit in a somewhat lackluster lotus position. You need to keep breathing. You think you need to keep breathing? The rules are different, here.

Dirk: Shouldn’t?  
Caliborn: WHEN MY SISTER PREDOMINATED, MY SOuL SHOuLD HAVE BEEN SuBSuMED INTO HERS.  
Caliborn: BuT SOMETHING KEPT ME FROM TOTAL NONEXISTENCE. I THINK IT’S BECAuSE OF YOu AND JAKE.  
Caliborn: I WANTED SO DESPERATELY TO MEET ANYONE ELSE, BESIDES HER, THAT THIS SPLINTER OF ME WAS ABLE TO SuRVIVE.  
Caliborn: EVEN IF IT TuRNED THIS VERSION OF MYSELF INTO AN ELEMENT OF A STORY IN WHICH I WAS NEVER MEANT TO TAKE PART.  
Caliborn: I COuLD MAKE A BRIEF IMPRESSION. THAT MIGHT LINGER ON.  
Dirk: Like an afterimage.  
Caliborn: YES.  
Caliborn: EXACTLY.

You remember reading a centuries-old news article about the world’s quietest room, where product developers tested the decibel levels of whatever the fuck, and how many people challenged themselves to endure the soundlessness. You think about this, now, face to face with him in utter darkness. If your own life was a work of fiction, you’d be calling bullshit, how can you see his face? But it’s dream logic, isn’t it?

You resent yourself for doing anything other than paying attention to every infinitesimal fraction of a second he’s been speaking. You’re terrified of how soon this will come to a close. You wish you could stop turning the pages of this horseshit book.

You take off your glasses, and as soon as they’re off your face, they disappear.

Dirk: How did you recognize me?  
Caliborn: WHEN YOu ENTERED THIS SPACE, YOu BROuGHT YOuR OWN MEMORIES OF ME. IT ALTERED YOuR PERCEPTION OF ME, AND MY OWN RESIDuAL SELF-IMAGE.  
Caliborn: uNTIL YOuR SPLINTER ACCESSED THE DREAM, I HAD NEVER KNOWN THE PROJECTED DIRK OF JAKE’S WORLD.  
Caliborn: THE INSTANT YOu ARRIVED, I HAD ALWAYS KNOWN THAT DIRK.  
Dirk: It’s a paradox.  
Caliborn: YES.  
Caliborn: IT’S ALSO WHY MY LEG CHANGED.

You look at his legs. Sure enough, both of them are organic, from what you can see of his ankles between his slippers and the pajama pants.

Caliborn: BEFORE THIS IS OVER. I WANT YOu TO KNOW HOW GRATEFuL I AM FOR YOuR KINDNESS TOWARDS ME.  
Caliborn: YOu ARE THE ONLY PERSON WHO HAS EVER MADE ME FEEL VALuED.  
Caliborn: THAT I HAVE A RIGHT TO LIVE. THAT I’M NOT AN OBSTACLE STANDING IN THE WAY OF ANOTHER’S SuCCESS.

He is suddenly closer, without moving, as if the space between you closed in on itself by his own will. As soon as you think it, you realize that’s probably what happened. He takes both of your hands into his own, seated so close that your knees are touching.

You think his eye sockets might be black, but then you think you imagined it.

Caliborn: YOu’VE MADE ME HAPPY.  
Caliborn: IN ANOTHER LIFE, I COuLD HAVE LOVED YOu.

Your throat feels like it might close off. You wish you knew if you needed to breathe here or not.

Caliborn: REMEMBER WHAT I SAID ABOuT INEVITABILITY?  
Caliborn: TIME ENDS ALL THINGS, DIRK.

When he looks at you, it’s with a peace you wish you could understand.

Caliborn: EVEN uS.

You want to say something profound, something that will leave a lasting impression for whatever fragments of time you have left. You want to tell him how you feel, how this has affected you, how you won't know what to do with yourself when you wake up without him, without _this_ him.

But your face is scrunched up and your throat is tight and you despise yourself for failing to save him, so you don’t say anything, and try to communicate your desperation and despair by squeezing his hands.

[ ](https://40.media.tumblr.com/34279985b98821b1c16cdffc75abc746/tumblr_nv48aaKQSP1s5at38o3_r2_1280.jpg)

Caliborn leans forward and kisses your forehead, between your eyes, where your shades have left an imprint of their presence.

Caliborn: THANK YOu.

> Wake up.

* * *

> Wake up.

You wake up.

Jake is beside you, in regular clothing, on his bed, in his ridiculous jungle house that’s been transplanted to LOMAX. He sits up in an attempt to reorient himself, and glances over to you.

Jake: Dirk i must say i just had the battiest dream, and...  
Jake: Are you alright?

You roll onto your side, facing away from him, and curl in on yourself. You shake your head ‘no’ but can’t get any words out. 

Jake puts his hand on your upper arm, hesitantly. You snort back a disgusting quantity of mucus and let out an embarrassing sob. You hate this. You hate everything about this, and you hate yourself. Jake tightens his grip on your arm for a brief moment, just to let you know he’s there.

You cry harder.

He sits with you for several minutes while you seek some kind of catharsis, some relief from the loss. Eventually he gets up, with a quick double pat to your shoulder as he moves away from the bed.

You’re dehydrated. Your face hurts. Your ears feel hot. You’re a fucking mess.

You lie there, miserable, and stare with your puffy gross red eyes at a poster for _Troll III: Contamination Point 7._ You wish it was at least _Troll 2_. This is the least of your problems, but it feels like an even deeper offense, somehow. The proverbial cherry on a shit sundae.

Jake comes back up the stairs with a glass of water, and offers it to you. You sit up, and force yourself to take a few sips. There’s a tightness at your temples you wish would go away.

Jake: Do you want to talk about it?  
Dirk: No.  
Jake: Okay.  
Jake: Im here if you do.

You nod, and take several more gulps of water.

After another minute of keeping watch over you, Jake mercifully exits his own bedroom and leaves you alone.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t even know where the fuck to begin. It’s a hell of a way to start an Sburb session that’s already doomed to stagnation. You haven’t even been coherent enough to tell Jake he’s been in a fucking coma.

You finish the rest of the water and set the glass on the pillow you’re not using. You lie back down on his bed and close your eyes. It’s hard to breathe.

He told you that you’d made him happy. You think that’ll have to be enough.


End file.
